Fox to a Rabbit
by blue.silk.scarf
Summary: a smutty oneshot between Dracula and a gypsy he hunts. Pretty self-explanatory.


**A.N. Hi Y'all! This is my first smut, so any feedback would be nice. This Dracula is based off some illustrations from a recent edition and reworking of the original Dracula. He's blonde in it. :) Please don't flame! Oneshot! **

Dirra could feel her heart pounding against her chest. She knew that it was for this very reason that the count was hunting her, like a rabbit being chased by a wolf. The demonic calls of the count's servants echoed through the trees and although she realized it was too late she could not stop running. Her arms were raked by the bare, ghostly branches of the forest, her lantern swinging wildly in one hand, and she saw in her panicked flight the flicker of blackness moving against blackness. She reached the middle of a clearing and was forced to stop dead; for there, surrounding her on all sides, were the instruments of the Count, their black pelts glinting silver in the light of the moon. Dirra dropped her lantern; it shattered on the ground, and the world was steeped in darkness.

She heard the hungry growls of the wolves as they prowled ever closer, their eyes fixed upon her and gleaming with an unearthly red light. Dirra panted, her eyes wide despite not being able to see, and she let out a fierce snarl, her grandmother's rosary beads held out at arm's length to keep the demons at bay. Her eyes adjusted to the pale moonlight just as the wolves melted away into the trees again, leaving her alone in the clearing. She looked around, but there was nothing to be seen in the clearing but silver wildflowers and the ghostly branches of trees. She could not believe her sudden turn of luck, and laughed to the darkness in relief. But Dirra's blood froze in her veins as she felt the lightest of fingertips tracing along the line of her bare neck. She was immobilized; she knew that to run now meant instant death. She should have run, she should have died than face the monster now gracing her cheek with the side of his hand. She took a terrified, shuddery breath as his other hand slowly snuck its way around her waist. She felt repulsed by his touch, sickened by the sheer number of people who had died needlessly upon it, yet at the same time her mind was battling against her carnal attraction to it. Even then, she could feel herself unwillingly moving with his touch as his hand traced the curve of her side, longing for more and hoping she wouldn't receive it. The Count's cheek brushed the back of her hair and she felt his icy breath as he whispered into her ear.

"I caught you…" His velvety voice sent a shiver up her spine. "What am I meant to do with one as troublesome as you? After all, you did kill my most devoted servant…" She felt his icy lips press against her neck, and she moaned, half in utter revulsion, half in pleasure. Her mind was clouding over, and she wasn't sure whether it was due to the Count's fabled powers, or whether it was from her growing desire to be touched by him, to be held by him… Through the fog, she faintly saw the memory of herself and a band of her hunters, awash in the flames of torches, as they slit the throat of a snarling black wolf. But her mind was drawn away from that, back to the moonlit present, by the feel of the count's hands unlacing her corset at the front. Sharp stabs of highly rational fear coursed through her, and her eyes widened.

"No…. Please…." She whispered, trying to back away. She heard the count growl behind her. He pulled her roughly against his chest, pinning her arms underneath his own steely grip, and hissed into her ear,

"No one tells me what to do, gypsy…" and her breasts heaved as he ripped her corset open at the front. They spilled out into the moonlight, and before she knew what had happened the count had spun her around and slammed her, hard, against the trunk of a tree. She cried out in pain, but was silenced as the count pushed his tongue into her mouth and pinned her against the bark. His hands ran across her breasts, circling her nipples and cupping them in his hands. Revolted at herself, Dirra felt her body give itself up to him and his ministrations. He undid his trousers and hoisted up her skirts roughly, revealing her wet core. She heard him sneer at her traitorous body and then she was lifted up into the air as he pushed his cock fiercely into her.

Again and again she was slammed against the trunk of the tree as the Count rode her. Dirra felt quick, sharp pain, but it was surmounted by the waves of sick pleasure she was being given as the count thrusted deep into her, kissing along her neck, and her jaw, and then her bare collarbone. Dirra moaned with each thrust, told him to go deeper, faster, harder, and she clung to him, legs wrapped around his waist, as he pumped his cock into her again and again. Her back arched with pleasure and his long, cold fingers tangled in her hair. His long, pale hair swept across his face, and Dirra brushed it out of the way. She placed one of her hands upon his chest, unbuttoning his shirt, and she put the other down below his thrusting cock and around his balls. His eyes widened slightly in surprise as she began massaging them with her hand, but it turned into a cruel smile and he merely thrusted harder into her. He placed her hard nipples in his mouth and sucked, drawing another moan out of her. She gasped for air, tears of both fear and lust trailing down her cheeks, and looked at his face, wide eyed, as he pounded her against the tree. As she reached her peak, she saw the carnal fire burning red in his eyes, and then screamed out his name to the forest as he finally drove her over the cliff. Feeling the little gypsy treat tightening around him in ecstacy drove the count's cock over the edge too, forcing him to pump his seed into her. He could smell her sweet blood coursing through her, filled with the seductive taste of lust. He pulled out of her, threw her to the ground so that she spread out in front of him, and crouched over the top of her. He kissed her lips, her breasts, and just as Dirra was getting turned on again, he buried his teeth in her neck. Her screams died away and she went limp in his arms. He discarded her, and his wolves came padding silently forwards. He disappeared in mist and they descended upon the empty shell that once held the gypsy.

**A.N. So, that's it. Hope some of you enjoyed it. Reviews!**


End file.
